Am I enjoying this?
I've been spending more time reading other people's blogs than actually writing my own. At first I thought it was because everyone else had a much more interesting life than I do. But then as I kept reading, it dawned on me that this just isn't true. You guys are just better at assembling the minutiae of your daily lives than I am. Or y'all have a lot more self-esteem.
I mean, I could blog about the 3 killer Martinis Tim fixed me on Friday night when I turned up at his apartment after a miserable week, or the fact that we watched Serial Mom after I drank all those Martinis. Don't you think Kathleen Turner was born to play that role? Pussy willows!!
Or I could write about Saturday dinner with M. & Tim at Keen's Chophouse. And the 3 killer Martinis I had there. And the excellent cigar I won from the bartender because I knew the answers to his posted daily quiz (Sonny Liston, The Rosenbergs, Eustace Tilly). Not to mention the delicious mutton chop I devoured. Or the very drunk lawyer lady from Fort Worth who sat at our table and chided us for making fun of her boss. We were, it's true. He had the kitchen bring him a roll of aluminum foil so he could create his own doggie bag. Apparently he didn't trust the kitchen to do this for him. They might spit in it. Or something. It was me suggesting he create a swan out of all that aluminum foil in my Irish Whisper (a loud aside that everyone in the room can hear) that brought Rhonda from Texas over. They'd been drinking Scotch since 4:30. It was now 10:00 PM.
Should I mention that the three of us headed to the Townhouse for a laugh after dinner? Or that I continued drinking many vodka and tonics. Never mix, never worry. Should I discuss the Dominican hustler who was steamed that I was stealing his thunder? I was flattered that he even thought I could possibly be competition. For someone soon to turn 51, it's kind of hilarious to be the center of attention in the Townhouse. I'm thinking it might be one of God's biggest jokes yet.
M. actually went off on his own and made conversation with a couple of other guys. A first! Tim chatted up all the Fratti, who seem to make the Townhouse their home away from Casa di Pre. And I got to stand around, lean on pillars imagining Lena Horne doing the same, and realizing just how drunk I was!
Of course I would have to tell about the killer hangover I had Sunday morning. And that I dragged myself to the gym and did an hour of cardio and banged the weights around an additional hour. And consumed enough diet Red Bull to shake off any remnants of said hangover.
What blog entry would be complete without talking about my visit to the Dugout. I know. I know. You boys go to the Eagle now. So would I, if my boyfriend wasn't a Dugout Sunday Beer Blast bartender for the past 8 years! Anyway, it's nice when pals drop by to say hello before they head uptown. (Hey Greg, and nice to meet you, Clovis!) I had many Miller Lites, alternated with bottles of spring water. I felt positively healthy. And there were no end of frisky (and even attractive!!) guys who seemed to want to not even bother to make the trip uptown and hook up right then and there. Including the lovely Scott who apparently wanted to have sex with me right there at the bar, even through my shorts. I have to applaud his forthrightness.
Today I headed off to Harborside Financial Center in Jersey City to manage a project. My poor installers were completely hungover. They were in total groaning agony. I even saw a pint of Smirnoff in one tool bag. Pretty fucking nasty hair of the dog, if you ask me.
Thank Christ I know how to drink!